


Don't Think Twice

by Knightblazer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Introspection, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Game(s), Sexual Content, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: Times like these he can’t help but reflect on how it felt all too easy for Connor to simply just come into his life like this and—stay. Like he meant it. Like Hank could have it.Something in his chest grows tight at that thought.(or, five times where Hank forgot that Connor is an android, and one time where he didn't.)





	1. housemate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tashilover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/gifts).



> Originally written for the [DBH kink meme ](https://dbh-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/717.html), with a 5 + 1 prompt. This particular version has been edited for typos and some minor edits to pacing and such. 
> 
> Except daily updates throughout the week! Or, well, most of the week since its in six parts. You get the idea.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the story!!
> 
>  
> 
> (Yes, the title of this fic is [exactly where you think its from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1o-Ew1fhH8). Don't judge me.)

**i. everything is just right;**

Hank wakes up to the most godawful headache he’s ever had in months.

“Good morning, Hank.”

The all-too chirpy voice at his bedside doesn’t exactly make things any better, either.

Hank groans out his displeasure before turning to his side, opting to bury his head under a pillow in the hopes that he would actually be left alone for once. Surely one day off is something that he deserves after all this time.

If he were just a little more awake, Hank probably would quickly realize that his hopes are all but dashed in the face of Connor’s never ending drive; it doesn’t take long before he feels his housemate attempting to tug the sheets away from him. Hank, of course, stubbornly refuses to give in. He pointedly stays in bed, grumbling as he keeps his eyes closed. Soon enough Connor seems to get the message and stops. Hank hears footsteps moving away from him and relaxes back into bed with a hum of satisfaction. Now he can stay in bed as long as he wants without getting disturbed. 

With how groggy Hank still is it only takes a quick moment after that before he’s taping off into unconsciousness, awareness slipping as he drifts off—

Connor draws back the curtains and sunlight instantly floods the entire room, slipping past the gaps between his pillows. Hank can feel the rays hitting his eyelids and lets out a louder groan this time around.

“It is ninety seven minutes past your waking time, and forty three minutes past the time where you should be starting work.” If Connor feels apologetic for waking him up this rudely then he certainly isn’t showing any of that. “If you do not get up in the next three minutes I will be forced to drag you out of bed.”

While Hank doesn’t doubt the fact that Connor _could_ do that, he’s also pretty sure that won’t be happening either. So rather than actually getting up Hank simply turns so that his back is facing away from Connor and his evident bright-eyed enthusiasm to start the day. “G’away.”

A beat of silence, then two, and then Connor speaks again. “If you do not get up in the next two minutes I will have to call in and inform Captain Fowler that you are not coming in for work today.”

That’s a warning if he hasn’t heard one. Part of Hank is highly tempted to simply stay in bed—fuck the consequences—but that self-destructive part of him isn’t as encompassing as it used to be. Last time he would have _definitely_ stayed in bed, but things are different now. His position in the DPD is still in a somewhat precarious position (amazing how punching an FBI officer can haunt you for so many months), and Hank doesn’t exactly want to give even Jeffrey more of a reason to bust his balls. Though mostly he doesn’t want to go in late because he doesn’t really want to think about Connor being alone in the DPD when people like Reed are still on the prowl.

“Ugh, fine, just give me a sec.” Hank half-mumbles the words into the pillow, but apparently Connor has heard it clearly enough, judging by the fading sound of footsteps.

Hank gives himself one more minute in bed before he reluctantly gets up, wincing at the still-throbbing pain in his head. Last night... certainly had been a night, and it's not hard to regret the amount of alcohol that he had ingested. It’s nowhere near the amounts that he used to drink on a daily basis, but it also has been a good couple of months since he started cutting down on his intake. He probably should have not drunk so much, but. Well. Last night (or rather, yesterday) did call for a celebration of sorts.

Only one way to solve this, he thinks.

With almost herculean effort Hank hauls himself out of bed and squints through the too harsh sunlight to make the steps out of his room and to the kitchen, yawning aloud as he steps inside. The coffee pot is unsurprisingly empty when Hank gets there—briefly he recalls the one time Connor attempted to make coffee for him and how bad it had turned out. The affronted expression that Connor had made at that point had been pretty damn funny to see.

The memory brings a smile to Hank’s face as he grabs the coffee pot and starts to put the relevant items within (powder, sugar, and a little bit of milk) to make his much needed coffee. He sets for the pot to boil and uses that time to head over to the bathroom and wash himself up for the day. A hot shower definitely sounds like a good idea.

And it definitely is. Hank feels a hell lot better after said shower, though the headache still pounds at him. Hopefully some caffeine and aspirin would fix that quickly enough before he drives to work.

Connor is in the kitchen this time when Hank returns from his shower, looking up at him with still too-bright eyes on his goddamn goofy puppy dog face. “I took Sumo outside,” he announces, in case Hank hadn’t already guessed from the lack of a giant St. Bernard that would usually be waddling around his food bowl.

All Hank does is to grunt in response as he shuffles over to the coffee pot. He takes a cup and pours the freshly-brewed coffee into them, then picks one up to drink. The caffeine hits him immediately, and he can feel the easing pressure between his temples. Perfect.

“Are you drinking that cup as well, Lieutenant?”

Hank blinks at the question. Connor gestures to the counter, and Hank follows where Connor is gesturing towards to see a second cup of coffee already sitting there, waiting for him.

“I poured it out for you while you were still washing up.” Connor answers the unspoken question that had run in Hank’s mind. “I thought that you would have noticed.”

Hank makes a face in return, though the gesture is really more for himself. Seems like his headache is worse than he thought if he couldn’t catch something like this. “Sorry,” he mutters, taking another sip of his coffee. “You can have it if you want; otherwise it’d just be a waste.”

A pause. Hank flicks his gaze up and sees the LED on Connor’s temple running yellow, and it should probably be embarrassing at how long it takes for him to realize what he had just said.

“I, uh—” Shit, this headache really must have done a number on him if he forgot that Connor couldn’t actually eat or drink. Great job, Anderson, turns out even after so many months of living together he can still forget something goddamn basic like this.

It’s easy enough to imagine Connor being annoyed or unimpressed over this, but instead what Hank gets is a small flash of amusement on the android’s face. “It’s alright, Hank,” he says, already waving it off with a hand, “I appreciate the sentiment well enough.”

Despite the reassurance Hank feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment anyway, and he scowls down at his coffee in order to hide it. “Yeah, well. Don’t expect it again anytime soon.” Mistake aside, though, what really weirds him out about that whole thing is the fact that how natural it had been for him to simply say it, just as how natural it had all been for Connor to slot into his daily routine like he had always been a part of it. Times like these he can’t help but reflect on how it felt all too easy for Connor to simply just come into his life like this and—stay. Like he meant it. Like Hank could have it.

Something in his chest grows tight at that thought.

Hank chases away those feelings before they get too much and downs the rest of his cup. “Right, well,” he says as he switches over to the other cup of coffee. “Can never say no to more coffee.”

Connor quirks a small smile in response. “Maybe on my next birthday I’ll try to mix some thirium with it and see how that goes.”

Hank’s reply comes in the form of a snort. “Yeah,” he mutters into his second cup, suddenly unwilling to look up to meet Connor’s gaze, “you do that.”


	2. friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When he envisioned the kind of life Connor would have, it definitely did not include a scenario like this. But now that it has happened… well, considering that he kind of had been the one to get Connor into this, he probably should at least shoulder the responsibility to make it right._
> 
> (or, Connor moves house. Hank helps... or at least attempts to help, in some fashion.)

**ii. how did I live in a kingdom of thieves;**

It’s not hard for Hank to recall the day where Connor officially moved into his house. While Connor had stayed in his place before, circumstances back then had been very different from how they are now; after all, it isn’t as if coming straight out of a victory in a revolution meant that androids instantly would have a place to stay.

Connor moved out once he secured a place of his own—an act that Hank had quickly encouraged. Now that androids were granted their own personhood and rights he wanted Connor to use those chances to explore life for himself, and that wasn’t going to happen if the android got stuck with an old man like him. 

But two months after said move it became pretty clear that Connor spent far more time in Hank’s place than he did at his own house. The one time Hank _had_ went over they ended up spending almost two hours wiping off the dust that had gathered on every surface of Connor’s already sparse furniture.

He asked at that point why Connor had literally left everything untouched. All he got in response is a tilt of the head and a simple, “Because I don’t need them, Lieutenant. They’re all for human comfort.”

Hank fell quiet after that, suddenly finding himself unable to squeeze out any other words through the weight in his chest and the lump in his throat.

Human comfort. Right.

Unintentional blunder aside, after that day it didn’t take long for Hank to come to a decision. He still didn’t want Connor to feel obligated to him, but having the android stay around his house is a far better alternative to… well, pretty much the current situation. Connor, surprisingly, had all but jumped at the offer, even suggesting that he pay for half of the bills as a means to make up. Hank initially had been unwilling but eventually relented once Connor pulled the goddamn puppy dog eyes on him.

He always had a weakness for the big, expressive eyes. It's the same way as to how he got Sumo in the first place. It’s always the fucking eyes.

Still, he stood by his word—having Connor around at his place would be better than having him stay in some small, tiny space with furniture that he didn’t even use. When he envisioned the kind of life Connor would have, it definitely did not include a scenario like this. But now that it has happened… well, considering that he kind of had been the one to get Connor into this, he probably should at least shoulder the responsibility to make it right.

—at least that is what Hank tells himself as he stands next to his car, staring at the refurbished apartment building that Connor had been living in (or rather, had barely been living in). He had offered to head up to help Connor with the moving but the android had declined the help, saying it was unnecessary.

 _Unnecessary_ , his ass. All that furniture up there may have been untouched but they were still Connor’s furniture. And sure, maybe some of them might be hard to hit inside the house but Hank is pretty sure with a little rearranging they would be able to fit everything from his place over—

“Lieutenant, I’m done.”

Hank blinks out from his thoughts and focuses back onto Connor… along with the small cardboard box that the android is holding in his arms. “Wha?”

Connor does that peculiar headtilt of his. “I’m done packing up my belongings,” he repeats himself, then shakes the box in his arms to further emphasize his point. The very same point that Hank can now feel flying right over his head.

It takes a moment before Hank’s mind catches onto what Connor is implying, and when he does so the man gestures to the box with a sceptical look. “Is that all you’re bringing over?” Not that he wants to doubt Connor or anything, but—one has to admit that this is all just a little bit disquieting. Especially when he knows that Connor has furniture right upstairs. He’s seen them, for crying out loud.

Connor only shrugs in response. “I do not require it,” he states, as simple as one could ever get with words like these, words that Hank can only boggle over. He’s well aware of how much he’s staring at Connor at this point, but there’s really no other way he can respond to something like that.

“You—” he starts, then stops because his mind has totally blanked out and Hank has to take another moment before he tries again. “You just—you can’t— _what the fuck_ , Connor.”

A blink from Connor. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, totally innocent and oblivious. Hank has the sudden urge to grab Connor by the shoulders and shake some goddamn sense into his supercomputer of a brain. But that will probably cause Connor to drop the box that he’s carrying, a box with possibly fragile contents within it, and so he stops himself from giving into that impulse.

Instead, he settles for scowling and crossing his arms over his chest instead. “You’re not going to bring the furniture over?”

The LED on Connor’s head pulses yellow for a few seconds. “Ah,” the android states when the light switches back to blue, as if having just realized something very important. 

Hank lets out a sigh and rubs the side of his face with a hand. “Yeah, _ah._ ” He really shouldn’t be surprised that Connor did not think about it, but somehow he is. He supposes androids don’t exactly have the same sense of ownership as humans did—which, after thinking about it, makes some degree of sense in a fucked up way. Definitely something he didn’t want to stick with Connor if at all possible. “So, pretty sure none of them can fit in my boot so if you want to move them we probably have to call a truck or something—”

Connor cuts him off with a shake of his head. “No, it’s alright,” he says, looking at Hank with a smile. “I appreciate the concern, but my answer remains the same.”

Hank boggles at him once more, completely thrown off guard by that response. “You’re sure?” he asks again after a while, just to be certain. He doesn’t want Connor to do this out of some desire to not cause trouble or something stupid like that. If the android wanted his damn furniture over then Hank would get it done, no matter what. It’s the very least he could do in return for the android’s company in his house.

Connor nods. “Yes.” He brushes past Hank after that in order to open the door to his car and smoothly slides himself into the passenger seat. Hank stares at Connor as he does that, then for a few more moments after before it occurs into him that he should probably get into the car as well, which he does so.

Once Hank settles himself onto the driver’s seat Connor turns to look at him, big doe eyes coming into full effect when the android smiles. “Are you ready, Lieutenant?”

Hank glances over to Connor with a look of his own. “Pretty sure I should be the one asking you that question.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Connor turns back to face forward, smile still in place. “Now, let’s go home.”

Home. Yeah, that sounded good—it had been a pretty long day at work, and as much as he is willing to help Connor with moving, he’s certainly not going to complain over the lack of any sort of heavy lifting. 

“Gotta pick up dinner on the way back,” he mutters as he reaches down to start the ignition of his car. 

Connor hums in response. “I’ll have to look into picking up cooking properly now,” he muses.

“You are _not_ cooking for me,” Hank quickly shoots back even as a part of him knows he’ll probably be eating whatever the android makes anyway—or at least, _when_ ever he actually manages to put together something edible; Hank certainly hasn’t forgotten any of Connor’s previous attempts. But that’s something he can think about another time. Right now he can hear the couch back home calling for him. 

With the engine fully started up Hank shifts the gear of his car and sets them off on the drive home.

(It takes until the middle of the night for Hank’s brain to fully sink in the fact of how quickly Connor had settled back in and called this place ‘home’.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Connor being terrible at cooking amuses me forever and you can't convince me otherwise.


	3. coworker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Of course, that is precisely the moment where Hank sees something falling down beside him. His stomach instantly plummets as the worst possible thought occurs to him, and that sensation only gets worse when he hears the sickening crunch of plastic against the pavement._
> 
> (or, Connor gets into an incident while on the job. Hank does not take it very well.)

**iii. and people who say things they don’t really mean;**

“Stop! Detroit Police!”

If only shouting those words would be all that they needed to solve all their criminal chasing problems. Hank lets out a growl as he forces himself to keep on moving, ignoring the way his body is already screaming in protest. He’s definitely going to feel this tonight but it doesn’t matter; right now what they have to do is to arrest this goddamn suspect that they’re chasing. That is, once they catch him—or rather, once _Connor_ catches him.

The android had taken off like a shot the moment the suspect turned tail to flee, chasing after them despite Hank shouting after him to _not_ do the very thing that Connor is doing right now.

One day, he swears—one day, this android is going to be the fucking death of him.

His legs ache like hell but Hank continues to run, for even though he can’t keep up with Connor that certainly doesn’t mean he’s going to leave the goddamned android alone. He just has to keep Connor in his sights and make sure that the idiot doesn’t do anything stupid like throw himself into traffic _again_. The one time had been more than enough.

At the very least this time they’re not anywhere near a highway full of speeding cars; Hank can’t quite decide if that is better or worse, especially after he finds himself going around the fifth corner around the block. Every turn he makes puts him further away from Connor, and it may simply just be his paranoia speaking, but Hank is pretty certain the moment he takes his eyes off Connor is the moment where something happens.

Far ahead of him (but not so far ahead of Connor, who has been steadily catching up) their suspect decides to book it around yet _another_ corner. Connor darts almost right after him and Hank swears under his breath. Fucking suspects and fucking androids—he had better get at least a whole week off once this case was done. In fact, he almost has half a mind to go shout at Jeffrey to ensure that it happens too.

He makes the turn just in time to hear a loud _clang_ of something striking metal. Hank quickly follows the source of the sound, which leads to him looking up to see Connor clearing the last part of the fire escape above him.

Hank mutters a few choice words under his breath once more. Christ, as if all the running and darting around corners hadn’t bad enough, now there were goddamn stairs and ladders as well. This suspect is as tenacious as a fucking cockroach, he’ll give them that much. But at this point he knows they must have slowed down; they may be fitter (and younger, he adds with a mental grimace) than Hank but they are still human in the end, and all this running and climbing must have tired them out by this point.

Connor probably has the suspect all but pinned down now. Hank starts to climb up the fire escape, intent on at least getting up there to ensure that everything is alright, even if he misses the action. And also maybe give Connor a word or two about taking off without warning and not listening to his damn orders. Being partners meant that Hank had his back, and he wasn’t going to be able to do that if Connor goes ignoring him and running off all the damn time.

As he heads up Hank hears the sound of mild scuffling from above, which causes him to pause. Is the suspect still trying to fight back? That is a little bit concerning. Hank knows that Connor can take care of himself, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re fairly high up a building. If Connor fell over the edge…

Hank banishes that thought away before it can take root. Surely even Connor wouldn’t be dumb enough to do something like that—

Of course, that is precisely the moment where Hank sees something falling down beside him. His stomach instantly plummets as the worst possible thought occurs to him, and that sensation only gets worse when he hears the sickening crunch of plastic against the pavement.

Instantly he feels his insides freezing up. Fuck fuck _fuck_. It can’t be. It _couldn’t_ be.

Hank feels the blood drain from his face and forces himself to hurry up and climb the rest of the ladder. His arms are sore and he’s well out of breath by the time he gets to the top, but his exhaustion is secondary to ensuring Connor’s safety and well-being. His legs are shaky as hell as he stands up on the rooftop, but he manages to stay steady enough he glances around his surroundings; there’s nobody else up here besides the suspect, who is currently curled up into a ball on the floor.

The sensation of dread within him intensifies.

Hank makes his way over to the suspect without his legs giving in and it takes almost everything inside of him to not just shout in the idiot’s face. “Where the fuck is Connor?”

The suspect—a young man, barely out of his teens—looks at Hank with wild green eyes and shakes his messy blonde head. “I—I was just trying to defend myself—” he starts to splutter, but those words are enough to heighten the fear that’s brewing inside him.

“Fuck.” _Fuck_. With the rampage of emotions now inside him Hank knows he probably would have made some sort of kneejerk reaction at this point had this been during his younger days in the force. But twenty years on the job have at least tempered his emotions in this regard—as much as a part of him wants to do something impulsive and immediately regrettable, now he knows better. The scolding he’d get from Jeffrey wouldn’t have made it worth it anyway.

Hank lowers himself onto his knees with a hiss, whipping out the handcuffs from the inside of his jacket. “You’re under arrest,” he states as he cuffs the suspect in place, only pausing when he sees the wince that the younger man makes. “You hurt your arm?”

“...” A few moments pass before the suspect responds. “I think I fractured it when I shoved it… him over the edge.”

Hank feels his jaw twitch and once again reminds himself about the scolding from Jeffrey that he doesn’t want to sit through. “Stay right where you are,” he warns the suspect first before taking a cautious step towards the edge himself, attempting to peer down even if his mind churns back to the memories of that one kid with the pigeons. 

He still remembers it as clear as day—the way that android’s body had sprawled out upon the concrete pavement, blue blood splashed everywhere and his body smashed into literal pieces from the impact when the android had hit the ground. It’s all too easy to replace that android’s body with another’s and Hank quickly feels the bile rising in his throat as he image flashes in his mind’s eye. Broken segments of Connor lying on the ground, thirum stains everywhere, empty brown eyes staring blankly into the sky—

“Are you looking for me, Lieutenant?”

Hank jerks at the familiar voice and instantly whirls around, eyes wide and wild as his mind registers the figure before him. “Connor,” he breathes out, relief flooding him for a second before it quickly evaporates when his gaze settles on the android properly. Parts of his skin are missing now, leaving Connor in patches of white as his chassis peeks through the gaps. Most of said gaps reveal the cracks in Connor’s chassis, with the biggest one of them all tracing down the side of his face. What really gets Hank the most, however, are the lines of thirium that leak out from all those cracks, sliding down his body and dripping off from him in a way that reminds Hank all too easily of blood. Then again, this _is_ blood for androids. Androids need thirium to function, and now Connor is losing it through all the cracks in his body. 

That thought is what makes Hank rush over to him, suddenly worried about all the possibilities that could happen and mentally cursing his own powerlessness to stop any of it.

“Jesus,” he breathes out once he gets close enough. “Are you alright?” He sweeps his gaze over Connor in order to try and see if there are any other injuries that he should be aware of.

Connor, predictably, attempts to brush him off. “Most of the damage is superficial, Lieutenant. I will be fine.”

“The hell you’re fine,” he quickly snaps back, not quite in the mood for Connor’s quaint attitude to his injuries. Especially not after having taken a fall like that and coming back up to him with something a hell lot more than basic superficial damage. “You fell down for _three floors_ Connor. Humans don’t walk out of that in one piece.”

Connor only flashes him a wry smile in response. “Then it's a very good thing that I’m not a human, in this case.”

Hank stills entirely at those words, and the old lump in his throat makes a return. Not human. Right.

Right.

An awkward silence passes between the two of them. Hank doesn’t really know what has changed, but Connor is still standing right in front of him and staring with his big stupid eyes, thirium rolling down his face—

The jangling sound of his own handcuffs snap Hank back to the present. He quickly turns away, breaking eye contact with Connor. “Contact Miller and the others,” he says. “I’ll stay here with the suspect until they come to take him to the station.”

A second passes, then another, and the third one stretches for seemingly far too long that Hank is tempted to turn around and snap, but before he can do that—

“Understood, Lieutenant.”

Hank lets out a loud exhale through his nose and makes his way towards their handcuffed suspect.

Fucking androids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But the real question is: is it merely a ladder, or a _step_ ladder.
> 
> (Brownie points if you get the reference, heh heh.)


	4. crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _God, Hank wants to be mad—he wants to_ stay _mad and angry and irritated. But all that anger pales in comparison to the way his mind runs around with the mantra of what if, what if,_ what if.
> 
> (or, Connor reassures Hank that he is fine. Hank has other ideas.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, this part follows after the last chapter. Mini plot go...?

**iv. you’re only everything I ever dreamed of;**

“Lieutenant, you don’t have to go through all this trouble. I can self-diagnose and repair the damages without any issues—”

“Just shut up and let me do this, Connor.”

Connor, to his credit, does actually fall silent after those words. It’s not exactly a _comfortable_ silence, but right now Hank will take anything to ignore the way his heart continues to pound in his chest. The adrenaline from earlier is still running through him, and Hank is pretty sure it will stay there for a while yet. Especially after having to go through the shock he had over Connor being pushed to fall three floors down.

Not for the first time, Hank is fucking thankful that Connor is built to be far more durable than the average android. A requirement, of course, given what he had been made for, but all the same—Hank will take his mercies where they come. There’s not a lot of those left now, these days.

...though being more durable certainly doesn’t mean that Connor is indestructible, a fact that Hank is painfully reminded of now. He suppresses a grimace as he wipes away the remaining thirium on Connor’s right arm, making an effort to not let his gaze linger on the cracks of his chassis. Connor has (upon Hank’s request) deactivated the parts of his skin where the cracks on his body are at, so right now the android is stuck in a rather patchwork, vaguely macabre mix of white plastic and normal human skin.

Hank would like to think that he’s managed to keep his emotions under control, but Connor breaking the silence quickly proves to him otherwise. “You are uncomfortable, Lieutenant. I won’t blame you if you want me to continue this by myself.”

As much as Hank appreciates the sentiment, that is the very last thing he wants to do. He lets out a snort and shakes his head to show as much. “I’m fine. You just worry about yourself.”

“But—” Connor starts, only to quickly fall silent by the glare that Hank shoots at him. He ducks his head back down and Hank doesn’t need to look to know that the android has his goddamn puppy dog expression going on right now.

God, Hank wants to be mad—he wants to _stay_ mad and angry and irritated. But all that anger pales in comparison to the way his mind runs around with the mantra of what if, what if, _what if_.

Not for the first time his mind recalls the memory of Connor in his arms on the top floor of Stratford Tower, a horrible splash of blue on his chest and hollow eyes that stare blankly into nothing. His chest tightens as the memory washes over him. If Connor somehow ended up in that state again… 

Hank bites the inside of his cheek to bring himself back to the present. This whole train of thought is not exactly something that he’s inclined to go down any time soon. He pushes said thoughts out of his head as he finishes cleaning off the thirium on Connor’s arms. The android stretches both of his arms out forward in order to examine them closely as Hank switches the dirtied rag for a cleaner one.

“There are still minute traces of thirium, but it is a simple matter of washing them off later.” Satisfied, Connor lowers both of his arms and looks over to Hank. “While I should be able to repair all the damages myself, the time it will take to heal will definitely impede future cases and investigations. I have contacted Cyberlife and made an appointment with them so that they can quickly fix the damages instead.”

With half of his mind still stuck on the cycle of _what if_ Hank is taken aback for a moment at the mention of Cyberlife, but quickly recovers before he says anything stupid in response. Cyberlife isn’t the same place as it used to be, especially now that it had been taken over by the androids. The relinquishment of the company to the authority of Jericho had been one of the first things that Markus had asked for in his talks with the president. With the whole company in android hands Hank knows that Connor would be fine.

Hank repeats that fact in his head as he turns back to face Connor, clean rag in hand. “You heading over there after this, then?” he asks while reaching over with the rag to start wiping away the thirium on the android’s face.

Connor nods minutely so as to not dislodge Hank’s hand away from his face. “Yes,” he answers, then blinks before adding on, “unless there is something else you need from me about this case?”

“Nah, I can handle the rest myself.” It’s all just paperwork and debriefings anyway, things that Hank has long gotten used to. He may not be able to do it as quickly as Connor, but it’s not as if he’s in a real hurry anyway. “You go and get yourself fixed.”

He tries to smile after those words but even Hank can sense how shaky it feels on his face. Hard to be okay, really, when you’re wiping off the equivalent of android blood from the literally cracked face of your android partner.

Partner. Never in a million years Hank would have ever thought he’d use that word with an android, but yet that is the reality he’s in right now. And perhaps the bigger surprise is that he’s surprisingly okay with it. So much has happened in the fifty-three years he’s lived in this world—all the pain and heartache he’s had to go through in the last few years, especially—leading him up to this moment. This life he has with Connor. If he lost this as well, then—

—then what?

Just like this, Hank abruptly finds himself at an impasse. He sees himself standing at a crossroads with two diverging paths that lie before him. One that tells him to continue with the life he has now, to maintain what he has. And the other…

The other path asks for _more_.

A series of images flash through Hank’s mind. Connor waking him up for breakfast, Connor at his side as they walk Sumo together, Connor in the passenger seat as his music player blasts at full volume, Connor sitting across him, eyebrows furrowed as he focuses on his work.

Connor and his quiet expressions, minute twitches and jerks that only Hank can ever see. Connor and his big doe eyes which are now staring at him. Connor who is reaching over to tap his cheek and calls his name ever so gently.

 _Lieutenant_ , he says at first—then after a few moments, _Hank_.

Hank feels like he’s nothing more than an audience in his own body, held captive by everything that Connor stands to him now. Absently he traces a finger down the jagged crack that runs down the side of the android’s face, pausing right at his eyes. Connor with his too-brown eyes and too-many freckles and lips that look far too soft—

Connor’s name is the only thing that runs through Hank’s mind when he leans in and presses their lips against each other.

For a moment there is nothing but heat and bliss, the softness of Connor’s lips on his far better than anything he could have ever expected—then Connor jerks against him, making a sound of surprise, and reality instantly comes crashing back down on Hank.

He pulls away as if he’d been burned, taking two steps away from Connor. The android stares at him, those eyes of his conveying all the expression that Hank needs to see. Surprise. Shock. Possibly disgust, if he tries to look hard enough. Which he doesn’t. He doesn’t dare to for fear of being right.

“I’ll meet you back at the station,” Hank quickly mumbles out before Connor can say anything, then turns around and all but flees to his car. If Connor calls out his name, he does not hear it. All he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears and that dark, insidious part of him saying how he’s just fucked it all up.

No matter how human he is Connor is still an _android_ in the end. There’s no way… there’s no reason why somebody as perfect as Connor would ever desire the love of an old, washed up, broken person like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you have a Feelings Realization while wiping blood of your android coworker's face.
> 
> whoops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You forget,” Connor states, voice quiet and low, “that I am an android, specially built for negotiation and infiltration. The full knowledge of the human psychology is in my head, Hank. I am not as naive as you think me to be.”_
> 
> (or, Connor takes the first step for them. Hank finds the courage to take the next.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also follows after the last one, as another FYI. More continuity get!

**v. did you really think I could say no;**

Hank has always been a coward. He knows this in the same fashion as how he knows that the sun rises in the east. He lashes out and pushes people away from him because he’s a coward who doesn’t want to let people close. He drinks to excess because he’s a coward who can only kill himself a little bit at a time. He plays Russian Roulette because he’s a coward who can’t even decide if he wants to live or to die on his lowest days and so lets luck decide for him instead.

He runs away after kissing Connor because he’s a coward and running away is the far better alternative to anything else that his mind can possibly conjure up for him.

As tempting as it is to not go back to the station for the rest of the day, Hank also isn’t exactly inclined to face the wrath of Jeffrey and deal with all the potential awkwardness that comes after that (which would most definitely include having to explain himself, and the idea of that is just… no). No, it is easier to just finish up whatever he had to do at the station and then make his exit. Connor would be stuck at Cyberlife with his repairs anyway.

Of course there had been the possibility of Connor having his repairs done quick and be back at the station before Hank can make his escape—but for better or for worse that does not happen. Hank finishes his report and hands it to Jeffrey in almost record time; in any other situation he would have made a comment about that, but right now all Hank wants to do is to go back home and pretend he hadn’t just fucked up the best thing in his current life.

The moment he’s back home Hank only gives Sumo a passing pat on the head before making a beeline to the cabinet where he keeps his alcohol. He doesn’t have as much as he used to, but there’s still a bottle or two for when he’s in the mood and the store is just a bit too far for him to make the effort to go out. Hank picks up one of the bottles and stares at it, looking at the way his reflection gleams off the dark glass of the bottle.

He thinks about downing the contents of the bottle in his hand, to get so drunk where he won’t be able to remember anything, a yearning void that he can tumble into and lose himself in entirely. It’s been a good while since that urge is there and where every other time there is Connor to steer him away, this time he does not have that luxury. Does not deserve that luxury like how he does not deserve… everything that Connor is.

(Connor, who would come by seeking answers for what Hank had done. Connor, who would see him drunk again if he started down this path once more. Connor, who would look at him with those fucking eyes and concerned expression and would probably fucking think it was his fault or something that made Hank turn to the bottle.)

Hank hisses under his breath and slowly places the bottle back onto the shelf. Connor doesn’t need to go through something like that. Not because of him.

He closes the cabinet and brings himself over to the couch, sinking down onto it with his hands pressed against his face as he tries to keep his breathing even. He hears the soft pad of Sumo’s paws as the dog comes over to see what is wrong, and snuffles at his knees the moment he spots Hank’s distress, whining softly to get his attention.

It takes a while and enough of Sumo’s incessant whining before Hank moves, pulling Sumo close to him burying his face in his dog’s fur. Hank wants nothing more than to ignore Sumo and his problems and the rest of the world, but he knows that he can’t make himself do that. He can’t let himself fucking drink to oblivion like before all because of Connor and his goddamn eyes and goddamn face.

God, he’s such a fucking coward.

Hank doesn’t know how long he stays there, only aware of the passing of time when he hears the door click open. There’s only one person who can come in, and Sumo pulling away from him only confirms it. Fear instantly grips him tight, and the desire to flee is there, but Hank has nowhere else left to run. All he can do is remain where he is and try not to stare too much as Connor steps inside, closing the door behind him.

Sumo trots up to Connor, tail wagging up a storm, and Connor gives Sumo a good few scritches on the head before he looks up to Hank. “I’ll give Sumo his dinner.”

The only response that Hank can give to that is in the form of a wordless nod. Connor inclines his head to acknowledge his answer before going ahead to bring Sumo over to the kitchen. Hank hears the familiar sounds of Sumo’s food bowl being filled up, followed by Connor’s quiet murmur for Sumo to eat. A shuffle, then the sound of a cabinet opening—and for a moment Hank feels his heart stop, wondering if Connor somehow knew—before he remembers that Sumo’s dog food is stashed in one of the other cabinets, far away from where all the booze is.

The footsteps come back in his direction, eventually coming to a stop. Hank shifts his gaze over to where Connor stands before him and drops his hands down onto his knees, fingers curling into the fabric of his jeans. 

“Connor—” he starts, even as his mind flounders to find what to say next. He feels like a ship drifting in the big wide ocean with no anchor to keep him in one place.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), he’s spared from that necessity when the android cuts him off with a shake of his head. “May I sit beside you?” he asks, as he gestures to the space on the couch besides Hank—the same spot where he would always sit with Hank when they share the couch.

A pause. This… isn’t something that Hank has been expecting, truth be told, and he had been expecting a lot of vastly different scenarios. So he can really do is to make a slow nod, then watches as Connor dips his head in acknowledgement and moves to sit down on the couch next to him. It’s almost like what they do every night after dinner, except this time the TV isn’t on and there’s a tension in the room that neither of them can ignore.

Hank feels sweat pooling down the back of his neck, nerves and anxiety and everything else quickly getting to him. His vein pulses under his jaw, ticking to the thunderous beating of his heart. He thinks about what to say to Connor—and _how_ he should say it to Connor. Sorry that he kissed him? Sorry that he has these feelings for him? Sorry that he makes Connor keep sticking around him and that he should probably find somebody else? Hank doesn’t know where the fuck he should begin.

Still, he supposes he owes it to Connor to try—especially after what he had done earlier.

He opens his mouth, starting to speak, but Connor beats him to the punch and starts to speak before he can even get a word in.

“I love you.”

Hank instantly freezes up entirely. He knows his mouth is hanging open and he’s probably gaping like a fish, but how else is he supposed to react to this? Out of everything he had thought of happening, this particular scenario is so far out of the radar its virtually non-existent.

It takes a good few moments for Hank to recover, and even then all he can manage out is an incredibly flabbergasted “Wha?”

Connor turns over to look at him then, features impassive save for the almost unnoticeable way that Connor has set his jaw. Hank only knows this after all the times he’s spent studying Connor’s profile in the many nights spent on stakeouts together. He’s somewhat suddenly aware that _that_ particular act makes him sound like a really creepy old man.

Even more reasons why Connor should get out of this, then.

“Kissing is a form of conveying human affection and desire,” Connor states, saying the words like he’s reading it off fucking Wikipedia or something. “And since you have already expressed that, it is only logical that I should respond in kind.”

Hank’s mind fucking whirls at that, a million thoughts and emotions and so many other things that he could unpack from those words that he probably _should_ do. Instead all his mind can latch onto is the fact that Connor chose to say ‘I love you’ first before anything else.

It’s probably nothing. It should be nothing. But yet—

“Connor, I—” Even though he’s sitting down Hank feels shaken. Unsteady. The imaginary ground under his feet threatens to crumble into dust at any given moment. “You can’t just say things like that.” Not to him, not like this. He doesn’t dare to think too deeply into it because doing that is like opening Pandora’s Box. There will never be a way to return things to how they were after something like that.

The android frowns at his words. “Why can’t I? It is the most direct way to express my own feelings for you, as I’ve come to understand.”

His _feelings_ —Christ. Hank doesn’t know how much of this he can take any more. At least that answered some questions for him, but in turn released a whole slew of other ones instead. Questions and responses such as _why_ and _you’re just confused_ and _you don’t need somebody like me, Connor, go and get somebody else who actually fucking deserves you_.

He resolutely ignores how that last thought causes that familiar lump to grow in his throat.

“You’re just...” Hank aimlessly waves a hand in Connor’s general direction. “I mean, I’m flattered you think so highly of me and everything, but...” God, what is he even saying? Even Hank himself has no idea. All he just wants is for Connor to not make a horrible, terrible mistake.

Connor slowly tilts his head to the side, watches Hank for a moment more, then blinks. “You assume I do not understand the concept of love and am confusing it with feelings of gratitude or otherwise.”

Well, when Connor put it _that_ way… “I mean—” Hank starts, dropping his hand. “It’s barely been a year since you guys found your emotions and shit. I mean, hell, even at my age I’m still figuring shit out, so it's not like I’m expecting you all to know your stuff so quickly—”

Hank cuts himself off when Connor shifts over and grabs his wrist. He leans in, their bodies pressing up against each other, and when they’re this close there’s no way for Hank to hide just how quickly his heart is beating.

“You forget,” Connor states, voice quiet and low, “that I am an android, specially built for negotiation and infiltration. The full knowledge of the human psychology is in my head, Hank. I am not as naive as you think me to be.”

And that’s—well, Hank certainly can’t deny that. Connor has a very fair point there. Connor’s worked with him during the revolution and then after, and has seen the very worst of what humanity has to offer. Hell, even Hank himself hasn’t exactly been the best kind of example to follow after. And if Connor is still saying this after everything…

Hank swallows down the lump in his throat. “It’s not that I’m doubting you, Connor, it’s just...”

“You are concerned for my well-being,” Connor finishes the sentence for him, then gives a small nod after that. “And I do appreciate your concern. But rest assured I am fully aware of my own choices and have made them consciously, with full understanding.”

Connor shifts after those words, using his super android strength to push Hank down onto the couch entirely and straddles his hips. He keeps a hand on Hank’s chest, probably to keep reading his heartrate or something. Hank doesn’t want to know how high it is now—and especially right now. It only gets worse when he sees Connor quirk a small smile, and his pulse jumps at the sight of it.

“Actions speak louder than words, as the human saying goes,” he says, and there’s an intensity to the android’s gaze that has all the blood in Hank’s body quickly rushing down south. The hand on his chest slowly shifts up to cup his cheek, and Hank feels his breath catching in his throat as Connor leans down, fully covering his body with his own.

The android pauses right before their lips meet, letting their breaths mingle in the minute space between them—Hank’s own hot breath to Connor’s own artificial one, regulated airflow that’s been cleverly disguised as breathing. “Last chance to turn back, Hank,” he murmurs, the low register in Connor’s voice sends a shiver through Hank’s body.

Connor is an android, Hank thinks to himself. RK800, designed for criminal investigation, negotiation and infiltration. A one man army in his own right who has taken down countless criminals and faced far more dangers than Hank himself ever has had to contend with in his life. While there are some things that Connor has little experience in, it certainly does not make him naive to it. As Connor has said so himself, he made this choice with complete knowledge and understanding. It would be an insult to that if Hank simply went and ignored it.

And in the end… he is too much of a coward to say no.

(Or maybe, he’s actually courageous enough this time to say yes.)

Hank tilts his head up just enough to meet Connor’s gaze fully. “You make sure to tell me if you want to stop at any time, alright?” he says. Just one last thing he has to make clear, because he owes that much to the android.

Connor nods in response. “Of course,” he replies, then closes the distance between them and kisses Hank soundly.

It takes a while for Hank to eventually remember that he still has dinner to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the chapter titles in this fic is a leftover idea where the fic's title would have been _relationship upgrade_ instead of a goddamn KH song. jury's still out if this is better or worse.
> 
> anyway, next time: gratuitous wireplay. and some porn. mostly wireplay.


	6. partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Less than a year ago if anybody told Hank he’d get hard from fingering an android’s chest cavity—let alone his android partner’s—he’d have laughed and then probably punched them in the face. Funny how life throws you curveballs like that._
> 
> (or, Hank learns to work with what he's got. Connor finds that he doesn't exactly mind.)

**v + i. I want you for a lifetime;**

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence of events that led them to where they are now, but Hank can’t find it within himself to care. Right now, all he want to do is to live in the moment.

“Hank.”

He hums at the call of his name, shifting his head in order to press a kiss to the side of Connor’s neck. “Yeah, Connor?” he asks, and try as he might there’s no way to hide the slight edge of breathlessness that has already crept into his voice. They had been doing a fair amount of making out on the couch, like two teenagers who couldn’t get their hands off each other. It’s… more than a little flattering that Connor feels that way with him, if he has to be honest.

He feels more than sees Connor’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and Hank lets the android guide his hand up to the left side of his chest. His fingers brush up against cool plastic for a moment before there’s a small hiss of air and the plastic gives way to the gentle heat and soft electric hums.

Connor shifts his grip so that he can push Hank’s hand down towards the heat inside of him. Hank shifts himself so that he can angle his head from Connor’s shoulder and see the opened section of Connor’s chest where his hand is being nudged into. From this angle he can see the just some of the many wires that run through Connor; wires that cycle the thirium through his body, wires that string him together and keep him alive. It’s not unlike the blood vessels in his own body, though the similarities can only go so far. As far as Hank is aware, no human gets off on having their figurative blood vessels being fingered.

 _Wonders of fucking technology_ , he can’t help but think to himself as he dips his fingers into Connor’s chest and feels the soft press of silicone on his fingertips. Cyberlife had built Connor a little differently than other commercial androids, given the nature of his existence, which meant they had traded some things for another. Some of the things were good, like a much more durable chassis and sturdy wires that had better cutting resistance. Other things not as much, such as the exclusion of genitals. Apparently that is something that every android would have regardless if they were made for sex or not. Something about making them as close to human as possible.

Close to human. Right. There’s a fucking big oversight if he’s ever seen one, then, if they had talked about making Connor as human as possible but completely forgot to give him a dick or whatever genitals they would have deemed necessary for him (fuck if Hank knows anything about androids and what they’re supposed to have). Hard to be human if you aren’t exactly packing anything between your legs.

Still, he supposes it doesn’t really matter right now. Hank doesn’t give a shit anyway, when it's clear enough that there are other ways for Connor to feel good. Maybe even better than good, if the sounds he making just from simply getting his wires touched is of any indication.

Hank slides his fingers deeper inside, manoeuvring them so that he can gently take hold of one of the bigger ones that he can see in his line of sight. The silicone material makes it soft and flesh-like, easily bending and twisting with the slightest hint of pressure. He knows the wires are supposed to be durable but right now they feel incredibly delicate between his fingers.

He rolls the wire gently between his thumb and index finger, taking in the sound of Connor’s hitched gasps and feels the tremble of the android’s body against his own. When he drags his thumb down the length of the wire Connor all but squirms into it, and Hank can’t help but groan as the action causes Connor to rub up against his own straining erection.

Less than a year ago if anybody told Hank he’d get hard from fingering an android’s chest cavity—let alone his android partner’s—he’d have laughed and then probably punched them in the face. Funny how life throws you curveballs like that.

Connor leans back against his chest and lolls his head over Hank’s shoulder, staring at him with those big brown eyes now dark with desire. “Hank,” he says his name, low and needy and wanting, and Hank feels his cock twitching in his now far too tight jeans.

He can’t stop himself even if he wanted to—and Hank certainly _doesn’t_ want to. “Getting close?” he asks, voice coming out rougher than he had ever intended and fuck if he doesn’t sound like a fucking pervy old fuck right now. But if it's for Connor, Hank knows he’ll do just about anything for him. He deserves that much at the very least.

As selfless as those thoughts are, they also do nothing to tamper down the heat that runs up his spine when Connor worries on his bottom lip and nods, still looking straight at Hank with those eyes on his now incredibly flushed face. The heat in Connor’s chest cavity rises, and Hank feels his hand inside there beginning to sweat. The wires start to run hot, though not hot enough for Hank to let go just yet. Not right now, at least.

In a flash of inspiration Hank takes several of those wires at once in his hand and slowly drags his palm down the whole bunch of them. Connor lets out a string of curses overlaid with static as his body writhes against Hank’s, and Hank feels the soft fingers around his wrist suddenly shifting into hard plastic.

Hank has seen that enough times with other androids to know the significance of that action, even if he can’t return the gesture himself. So instead he uses his other hand to keep Connor’s head in place before he leans in and kisses him, hot and wet and full of tongue, taking the time to map out the inside of his mouth and commit it to memory.

At least in this part Connor has been an incredibly quick learner. He kisses back, moaning into Hank’s mouth, nipping on Hank’s lower lip when they pull away. His LED is running rapidly between red and yellow, though unlike all the other times Hank knows that this means its a good sign. Connor is a lot more closer than he imagines.

“Tell me what to do, Connor,” he breathes the words out against Connor’s cheek, relishing in the shiver that runs through him. “How do I make you come?”

Connor tightens the hold he has on Hank’s wrist and drags it downwards. “I—here—” he manages out, and there’s another soft hiss of air before Hank feels something long and cylindrical being cupped around his palm. He tilts his head down to see what it is and pauses when he realizes its Connor’s thirium pump.

“Connor—” he starts, immediately uncertain, but the android cuts him off by pretty much shoving Hank’s hand onto said biocomponent.

“Just—just push it in.” It probably shouldn’t sound dirty but with how Connor looks and sounds right now it very much is. “And, ah—”

Another hiss of air, this time much closer to Hank. He leans back to see and then pauses again when he sees the now open panel at the back of Connor’s neck. Up there the wires are far thinner and presumably a lot more delicate than the ones he held in Connor’s chest, and when they’re pressed this close Hank can see some of the intricate circuits embedded underneath those wires, a spiralling network of an android’s version of nerves and neurons.

Seeing those shouldn’t make him even harder, but somehow it does, and Hank is too aroused up right now to think too much into it.

“What d’you want me to do here?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of the opened panel.

It takes a moment for Connor to respond. “Just, ah, blow,” he pauses, swallowing audibly before continuing to explain. “Blow when you… push the pump back in.”

Blow and push. Right. He can totally do that. Hank shifts his hand so that he’s gripping the pump properly, and brings his mouth close to the opened section of Connor’s neck. The android squirms, clearly impatient, and as tempting as it is to make him wait Hank files that thought for another time. Tonight, its all for Connor to feel as good as he can get.

He doesn’t ask if Connor is ready since the answer is already clear enough, so Hank simply gets right to it. He pushes the pump back into Connor as he carefully blows into the wires at his neck. The pump goes back into Connor with an audible _click_ and the android lets out a sound that definitely shows that he’s getting a fair amount of enjoyment out of this.

A few moments pass, and then Hank feels the pump protruding out once more. “Again,” Connor breathes out, more plea than command.

Hank doesn’t hesitate this time. He pushes it back in again and blows, the same as before. Connor makes another noise and the pump pops out yet again. The cycle repeats itself enough times until Hank doesn’t even bother to wait for Connor to bring the pump back out; he keeps it in his grip and slowly thrusts it in and out of Connor’s chest. It definitely should be weird that he’s pretty much using Connor’s figurative heart as some sort of android sex toy but the weirdness is quickly overshadowed by the way Connor responds to it, squirming and arching and moaning out Hank’s name as if the android doesn’t know anything else beyond him. Hank swears he has never been harder in his life. Fuck if Connor isn’t human—because he definitely isn’t one. He’s an android and there’s no better way to remember that than what’s happening right now.

Connor’s regulated breathing is almost non-existent at this point, and he’s vibrating more than trembling; Hank can’t exactly complain since those vibrations are getting to his own cock as well. His LED is pulsing red at this point and the wires at Connor’s neck radiate heat when Hank gets too close.

 _”Hank.”_ Connor sounds so fucking wrecked at this point. If he didn’t know Connor was close before he certainly knows it now. Hank hums to let Connor know that he’s here, taking hold of the pump in a firm grip this time.

“Come for me,” he says, lips close to the wires on Connor’s neck. He pushes the pump back in _hard_ and gives into the impulse to bring his mouth in close enough so that he can stick out his tongue and lick the wires there.

Connor jerks all at once, letting out a high-pitched static sound before going completely still. His breathing stops as well, which worries Hank for a moment before he remembers that androids don’t need to breathe. He pulls his face away from Connor’s neck, wincing at the scalding sensation on his tongue; he’ll definitely be feeling that for a while, but it's a small price to pay to letting Connor feel good.

He glances up to Connor’s LED and sees it staying on red for a few more seconds before it reverts back to blue, and the moment it does so Connor all but sags into Hank’s arms and against his body. Hank pulls his hand away from Connor’s chest, giving his stomach a soft pat and watches as the panel closes back up, skin quickly reforming over the area. No doubt the same happens for the panel at his neck too, even if he isn’t paying attention to it.

Once all of that is done Hank pulls Connor in closer and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Doing okay?” he asks.

Connor nods. “Just running some diagnostics to make sure, but everything should be within normal parameters.” He shifts after those words, moving away from Hank so that he can turn to face the man and flashes him a grateful smile. “Thank you, for doing this with me.”

Hank smiles back, lifting a shoulder to shrug. “Eh, it’s nothing.” He’s just glad that he could do something for Connor at all, even if it had been unconventional. That’s what you get for having an android in bed, he supposes.

“All the same, I’d like to show my appreciation.” And oh, yeah, that’s definitely Connor’s hand over his dick now. Hank stifles down a groan and just barely manages to stop himself from thrusting forward. “Would you be willing to show me how you come, Hank?”

Connor rubs the heel of his hand firmly over Hank’s jeans, and this time there’s no way to stop his hips from jerking forward. “Fuck,” he swears, biting the inside of his cheek as he feels the all-too insistent throb of his dick, begging for more pressure and friction.

The smile on Connor’s face turns sly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, before he bends down and proceeds to show Hank exactly what he meant by those words.

Hank can’t say that he minds it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write wireplay, I said to myself. It'll be fun, I said. everyone's doing it, I said.
> 
> Its a lot fucking harder than I ever thought cry I have winged this so hard you guys don't even know. orz But I hope you guys still enjoy it nonetheless. Hopefully its decent enough to cover how I was capslocking HOW THE FUCK DO I DO THIS in my head while I wrote this whole thing.
> 
> And also, with this last bit this is the end of this little fic! Thank you again to the original OP who made this prompt, whoever you are. This was definitely a fun little thing to do and I hope you enjoyed it. :) Also thank you to everyone who read and commented/bookmarked/left a kudos. I didn't really think this fic would get much attention at all, so to have this much support is incredibly humbling as always. 
> 
> Catch you guys next time. <3


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